


Raising A Toast

by Hertz



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hertz/pseuds/Hertz
Summary: B-52 and Brownie return to find a dine-and-dash customer picking on Toast.This is unacceptable.





	Raising A Toast

**Author's Note:**

> if you read his side story, surprisingly enough Toast is actually on good terms with B-52! I just had to write something for this revelation.

“B-52, please don’t drag your feet while you’re walking.”

“Brownie! I have fallen angel filth all over me! I’m tired!”

“No, you don't. That’s just the smell of your engine oil.”

“Cut me some slack already!”

Chuckling, Brownie held the door open, allowing their other teammates to retreat into the restaurant and rest their aching backs. Suddenly, he stiffened. Curious, B-52 dragged his feet a little quicker to where Brownie was.

“I’m sorry, you can't leave yet!”

B-52 paused, his ears pricking up as he recognised something standing out from the usual quiet murmurs and clinks of the glass in the restaurant. Angling his head toward Brownie for confirmation, he felt his suspicions increase as Brownie gave him a nod in return. His own hand was hovering over the blaster strapped to his back.

_He’s in trouble._

B-52’s one eye narrowed, the black void threatening to swallow up the blue. Stepping inside, Brownie led the way, their pace hurried but as stealthy as if they were sneaking up on an enemy; and an enemy was what they would be if they didn't back off soon.

Keeping to the walls, B-52 stayed next to Brownie, his face rearranged into a scowl. The customer this time had been smart to cause a commotion at one of the tables near the edge of the restaurant. B-52 saw red - or maybe that was just the obnoxious customer’s hair flowing down his back in a vibrantly-coloured ponytail. In front of him was a tall blond man, his eyebrows furrowing worriedly.

“You need to pay your bill, sir.”

His hand slid over his cane.

B-52 saw the customer say something, but at the moment the pulse in his head overrode anything else he might have heard. The instant the thug _dared_ to make a lunge forward, B-52 was there, baring his teeth like a disheveled beast, his blue eyes glinting. 

“ _You heard him,_ ” he hissed, brandishing his cane as a warning. “Cough it up.”

The large redhead, shocked, attempted to dodge the wrath of B-52’s fury, but he hadn't quite accounted for crashing into the large gun pointed at his back.

“Pay, and then _never_ come back,” Brownie said with steel in his quiet voice.

Outnumbered, the robber’s mouth quivered in silent fury before he grudgingly fished into his pocket and threw several coins onto the table. _Cling cling._ Without another word, he spun on the heels of his boots and left.

B-52 didn't lower his cane until the offending thug left. Only now did he release his breath in one big sigh. He blinked as a dark flash zipped past him

“Toast, are you hurt?” Brownie demanded, his hands gripping the taller food soul’s shoulders as he inspected every last inch of his body. Satisfied that there didn't seem to be signs of a scuffle, he stepped back.

“I’m… fine,” he replied, adjusting his apron in an almost bashful manner. Some of his blond bangs fell over his face. “You two didn't have to do that.”

“Of course we would,” Brownie insisted, his own cheeks seeming flushed.

“If anyone dares to pick on you, we’ll destroy them,” B-52 muttered darkly, looking in the direction the man had gone. There was no trace left of him now. The usual hustle and bustle of the restaurant had resumed. Satisfied, B-52 sheathed his weapon.

“How was work today?” Brownie spoke up, his blue eyes softening.

“Ah, work?” Toast smiled, shrugging his ponytail over his shoulder. “It was just normal, you know?”

“You should take care of yourself more.” Frowning in concentration, Brownie’s nimble gloved fingers worked at fixing Toast’s tie. Toast blinked, but despite the red in his cheeks didn't pull away.

 _Great. There they go again._ B-52 rolled his eyes in mock disgust as he retreated into the pantry to wash the dirt and grime off his hands at least. If he knew those two, he’d be here for quite a while.

“Me? _You guys_ should take care of yourself more -”

“I’m telling _you_ to take care of yourself, because my dear, you are absolutely horrible at it.”

“Ah - I… that’s -”

“How many times has Master Attendant caught you being sleep deprived? Once, twice? Maybe fifty?”

“You’re the same when we work together, Brownie,” Toast argued with absolutely no heat in his words. “...but I must thank you.”

When B-52 returned, Brownie had long since finished his tie-fixing, but his fingers twitched as if he had problems pulling away. “I don't want to see you stressed because you’re tired.”

“I mean… I, I’m not…” 

“You two disgust me,” B-52 deadpanned despite the smile on his features.

Toast fiddled with his tie, glancing at B-52, his lips slightly parted. Brownie, in a rare show of competitive spirit, stepped closer to Toast, standing on tiptoe with his hands wrapped around the taller man’s body. The brunet nodded at B-52, staring intensely at him.

“I have _work_ ,” Toast protested half-heartedly even as he placed a hand in Brownie’s hair.

“And I have jealousy,” B-52 announced in a very serious tone, crossing the little distance over to them. “I just came back from battle and I find you paying more attention to Brownie than me,” he continued in mock sourness, attempting to find a crevice between the two food souls that he could squeeze into. His usual serious expression replaced by a flustered one, Toast coughed.

“Who helped you exterminate that nekomata?” Brownie teased, earning himself a playful smack on the shoulder from B-52.

Toast extended his other arm so he could sweep both of them into his warm embrace. B-52 leaned into their warmth, closing his eyes. He might not have been with Toast as long as Brownie, but he already loved how tall Toast was, the length of his limbs, and how cuddly and soft he could be.

“You two need to be careful out there,” Toast whispered affectionately. “I don't want to see you get hurt either.”

“We can handle ourselves. You -” B-52 poked Toast in the chest. “Can’t.”

“But he has other winning capabilities.”

“Stop trying to steal him away.” B-52 rolled his eyes, elbowing Brownie in the ribs even though he really, really agreed with him.

“Can't steal what’s already mine.”

Scrambling out of the spluttering and adorably red Toast’s hold, B-52 fixed Brownie with a pointed glare. “You’ve been taking tips from Chocolate, haven't you?”

Brownie’s face was the picture of innocence.

“I can't believe you! We are no longer partners,” B-52 declared with a huff, pretending to storm off into his room.

“See you later, love.” Brownie called after him. B-52 raised a hand in a lazy wave.

“Is he okay? Did I really -” 

“Don't worry. He’ll be fine. I was only teasing.”

 _Teasing, huh?_ B-52 smiled to himself, closing the door to his room. His scarf hit the floor as he prepared to take a shower. It had taken him and Brownie a long time to relax and be this comfortable with each other, but now with a third food soul in the picture, it seemed poor Toast was having problems coping.

B-52 just hoped that one day, Toast would be available on his (woefully short) list of targets.


End file.
